


Harry Potter and the Other World

by Xerxeci



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drarry, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mirror Universe, What I'm Doing, idk - Freeform, other world, people die, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerxeci/pseuds/Xerxeci
Summary: In Voldemort's downfall, Harry and Hermione are lost. The goal they have been chasing for years was finally reached, but at what cost? Ron is dead along with so many others. Still, they try to piece together what they have left and return to normal. Then, Harry disappears. Swallowed by a spell neither Hermione or Draco understand until both of them are following him.They find themselves in a world where everything is different. The other Harry was kidnapped as a child and their world desperately needs a savior. Does Harry have it in him for one more round?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	1. Monomania

The man breathed in copper.

The sour taste of it in his mouth brought a grin to his lips, and he looked at the older man before him once again. Craving ate at him as lifeblood dripped from the open crevices of the man’s skin. It followed the contours of his muscles before vanishing within the black of his robes.

"Stunning" The word slipped off his tongue, but neither man moved. "Say," his voice was like velvet. "Do you like pain? How it will course through your veins. Electrify your very being." Another sniff and the man was chuckling. "No, I suppose you don't." He said with a pointed look at his captive's hands which ribbed the edges of his robe.

"I'll tell you what," he started again. "I'll let you choose. How would you like to die?" The captive shivered. The only sounds that left his mouth were whimpers. "Answer me," the command was clear in his voice.

"Bloody monster!" The older man, his hands trembling underneath his robe. "You get off on this, don't you? Fucking sick."

Laughter bubbled up from the other man's throat, tongue darting out as it finished to lick his lips. "I must admit, your pain is rather enticing. What do you think, Fafnir? Is it time to eat him up yet? I'm getting peckish."

"What have I told you about not savoring something?"

"I've gotten all the taste I can get out of someone so spineless."

A chuckle from the dark corner of the room before, "As true as that way be, he has yet to call you master. Educate him on your rightful title."

"I see," the young man's lips spread back into a grin. "You make a valid point."

His eyes tracked the movement of his captive once again, the green eyes glowing bright in the dark like those of a leopard. His hand darted into the air, plucking a knife out of it before looking down again. Wandless magic had become so simple or more boring at this point. He glided down the steps, knife glinting.

"Let's have some more fun Mr. Phoenix."

"Harry!"

"Hermione, nothing has changed in the last twenty minutes." Harry Potter rubbed his face for what seemed like the hundredth time before looking at her. "I am fine."

Hermione towered over him. She stood the other side of his desk behind a mountain of paperwork. Her glare sharpened. "Harry James Potter, you killed someone. We've," her lips trembled even as she straightened her shoulders. "We've lost people. Circe, Harry it's okay to grieve."

"I don't have time to sit and grieve right now. Dumbledore left me instructions and I have to finish them by the end of the week." Harry checked his list before looking at his watch. "I have seven more people to write letters to before morning."

Her eyes flickered from the paper to him, then she sighed. The robes she wore looked burnt in places and when she sat down dust and ash fell onto the floor by her feet. "Let me see that." She held out her hand, but Harry only pulled it farther from her reach.

"I killed someone and my best friend is dead, but Hermione you killed three people and lost a lover."

"Five." Her voice was quiet, her eyes stuck to Dumbledore's desk.

"Five?"

"Five people."

He blinked for a moment before his eyes sunk down to the table too. "It was the only way."

Hermione reached out with her hand and settled it down on his own. A painful smile slid onto her lips as she spoke. "You keep telling me that and  perhaps I'll believe you one day." She licked her lips which were still chapped and bleeding in places. "Please let me help, Harry. I need," a pause. "I need something to take my mind off... off him."

His eyes widened and he nodded, releasing her hand and running it through his hair. The paper in his hand didn't make a sound as he dropped it onto the table in front of her. Hermione snatched his hand again and squeezed it in gratitude before dropping it.

Ron had been the one good at comforting, not them. Ironic that they were the ones left to comfort each other. Harry knew,  logically speaking, that he should be crying or breaking down. He defeated one of the greatest wizards of his time with a second year spell.

A second year spell Snape had taught him. Snape who was Severus who was dead. Not coming back. Six feet under the ground soon.

"Harry?"

Oh.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Feeling a little run down is all."

She bit her lip before nodding. They both had their own secrets now.

It took them three hours to get the letters written and by the end of it they were both exhausted. But, it wasn't because of hand cramps and headaches. With each hour that past, the unresolved stress had built. Harry found himself biting back replies that he knew would leave Hermione crying.

As he tied a string of cloth around his last letter, he stood up. His hands reached out to grab Hermione's letters, but she stopped him. Hermione pulled him down into a hug, still in her chair. The cloth where Hermione's head sat felt damp, but Harry couldn't be sure. His body had been numb for hours.

He held himself still until her fingers loosened and she pulled herself back. Her hair was still mussed. It reminded him of Bellatrix Lestrange. Rampaging curls and madness. He had to mentally shake his head as his hand reached for his wand. The holder was empty, though. The pieces of his wand shoved deep into the folds of his robe.

"Get some sleep, Hermione." He whispered. His fingers clutched the letters as she passed them to him with a nod. The boots she wore didn't make a sound as she left, and he found himself missing the time when they were younger. When they weren't so good at being silent.

The haunting echo of his footsteps followed him as he climbed the steps to the owlery. He could hear the clucking of the owls. But, that was all. Hogwarts, for once, was mostly silent. 

Then, the sound began to sharpen and Harry focused on it. It grew louder and louder. More sounds began to creep into his ears: the flap of wings, the ruffle of cloth, a chain.

He zeroed in on the chain as it rattled. An owl must be jostling it. He stopped. The sound continued undisturbed by the hoots of the owls or his shoes any longer.  _ Clink. Clink. Clink. _ Hermione's scream erupted in his ears and Harry spun around. He didn't think. His feet moved and he was running up the stairs and bursting into the room to find the owls.

_ Owls. _

Oh.

Only  _ owls _ .

At least twenty of them.

While many of the students had left Hogwarts, they hadn't felt bothered to take their owls with them. What Harry would give to see Hedwig. Why did they have the option to abandon their owls? Why did Harry, who would have taken her, have to suffer her death. So many deaths.

He shook his head and stamped his foot unwilling to fall back into his memories. They had  _ died _ . He didn't have to think about them anymore. Ron's death was recent, understandable, but Sirius had died years ago. So many years. Severus had died...well, no, that one was recent as well.

An owl, beak covered by its black feathers, landed on his shoulder. Harry found himself staggering under the weight, legs giving out under him. His knees hit the floor and the letters fell out of his hands, scattering around the owlery. Harry looked up to glare at the owl, but pain hit him. His shoulder was almost bare, six slits in the fabric revealing the wounds and blood. Red. Red blood. Red blood that belonged to Ron, then Dumbledore. No, Dumbledore died to a curse, no blood.

_ My blood _ , he thought.  _ Mine _ .

It occurred to Harry that he needed to get up. He needed to occupy himself. He needed to deliver the letters. He needed to clean the blood. Tend the wound.

Dumbledore knew. He knew Harry would need to occupy himself. His legs felt shaky beneath him, but he knew that they would hold him if he could only stand up.

The blood on his shoulder dropped down, slick and sticky down his chest, and he hunched over. His hand reached up as if to clutch it, but his instincts knew better and it dropped. The arm fell heavy at his side, unmoving. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses before his hand pushed them off. They clattered onto the ground and sat still. His hand shot out to grab them, a fear clutching his heart. Losing his glasses on the battlefield had been his worst nightmare. His hands found the edges of the glass, clutching them to the point they almost cracked, and he blinked.

He squinted in the light, but that was odd. Harry didn't remember the owlery being this bright. Harry knew it hadn't been this bright and forced his eyes to stay open. The light swirled in circles under him. A language Harry didn't understand writing itself around him even as he looked.

A pull began in his gut, almost like the feeling of apparition, but not quite. The owls had abandoned their posts and the room was empty. Harry tried to stand, but his body wouldn't move. He could only turn his head to face the door before blacking out. The sound of footsteps fading with his awareness.

Something curled around in his gut. It clenched and then released before sliding into a new position. It reminded Draco of the time he returned home to find the dark lord sitting in his living room. The man had sat poised on the chair, legs crossed and hands folded on top of each other.

Lucius Malfoy hadn't said a word. He only rolled his eyes from behind the dark lord and pointed at the chair across from the man. That day Draco  was marked :  physically willing and mentally unprepared. He thought it might be fun. He thought he might be able to gain his father's approval this way, but his first mission had been a punishment. The dark lord knew Draco couldn't kill Dumbledore in the same way Draco knew he was being used.

Then and now, that unwanted feeling was the same.

He pulled his chair out before sitting down. Pansy was across from him, her hands clasped as she glared at them. The silence drifted between them, not strangling, but hovering. Draco turned to his right as he felt someone sit next to him and saw Blaise's chocolate skin. It was a miracle they had survived. No. It was thanks to Harry Potter.

Blaise's eyes slid across the table to meet Draco's before drifting to Pansy. Her eyes were still trained on her hands, knuckles turning white. "Pans," Blaise said, reaching out to touch her hand. She shrieked and pulled her hands back, eyes wide as she took them in. Draco watched the recognition develop in her eyes. The fear crept away, but her hands still trembled as she placed them back on the table. Blaise didn't try to touch her again.

Feeling the silence, Draco cleared his throat. He reached into his pocket to touch his wand. "Did you," his voice was hoarse. Draco cleared his throat again, but it didn't help. "Are you okay?"

"Am I-" Pansy started and then began to laugh. Draco frowned and he felt Blaise flinch beside him. The laughter didn't sound right, distorted by their memories of the dark lord. "You can't be serious, Draco. Why would I be okay?" Draco could feel the stares on his back and was glad that he faced a wall. Pansy had to see their faces, though, judging by the way she flinched.

Blaise, bless him, got to his feet and embraced her from across the table. "It's okay, Pans. It's okay." He whispered as he ran his hand through her hair. Draco swallowed. He had been the leader of their group and, yet, he couldn't even do something so simple. Draco had no idea how to comfort anyone. It felt unnatural to him: the hugs, the whispers. His parents had never done that for him. Draco had no example to follow.

He snorted. He had failed in so many ways. It made sense that he would fail at something so natural, too. Pansy's blurry eyes met his and she snatched the front of his robes. "Don't you dare." She had to force the words out. It was obvious by the way she breathed as she spoke, stuttering between each word. "Don't you dare believe that this is your fault. We agreed. We all agreed."

Draco nodded, but he didn't say anything. He felt that if he spoke his voice might break. The grief swallowing it whole. Pansy didn't release his shirt nor pull him closer. She tucked her head back into Blaise's neck and continued to clutch them both. Draco clutched his wand, guilty.

When they finally separated, Draco smiled in relief as he saw no one else in the library. The spectators left sometime during their emotional break.

Blaise looked at them both, before nodding and fleeing the room. Pansy's lip quirked in a half-smile. "He hasn't changed." Draco could only nod. He missed the easy going way they spoke before.The ability to slip from topic to topic and not dwell on any one thing. Harry would know how to do that. Awkwardness and all, he would know. Draco was sure of it, the boy had even killed the dark lord.

What would Harry Potter say?

"I should head back too."

Harry wouldn't say that. Dammit. Draco couldn't even do that right.

"Yea, I guess. I'll see you later, Draco." Pansy said and turned to look out the window. The forbidden forest stared back at her.

Draco dropped his head, and shoving his hands deep in his pockets fled the room.

He almost bumped into Hermione. 

She walked in front of him, eyes trained ahead as tears leaked. It seemed everyone at Hogwarts was crying today. It made sense. The war was over. There wasn’t a reason to be on guard anymore.  Hermione didn't have a reason to look at Draco anymore, or glare anyway. Still, an uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

He didn’t want to follow her so he took the path she came from, looking for a nearby alcove. It didn’t take him long to find one. His back sunk into the cold, stone wall behind him as he sat down, his eyes closing.

Draco hadn't slept in so long. At least, fourteen hours. How long had it been since he had  _ slept _ soundly? Likely longer than fourteen hours. Harry had gone without sleep longer, but at least he could hide from everyone. 

Harry hadn't shown himself since he defeated Voldemort. In the chaos of everyone's cheers and cries he had vanished. Draco suspected it had something to do with that invisibility cloak Harry had. Still, he tried not to think about it. Some things were well deserved.

Although the boy irritated him Draco had to admit that Harry saved them. He had done the impossible. That wasn't  _ it _ though. Harry had done more than beat the odds. Harry had accepted Draco. Only an hour after the fight, Harry had returned Draco's wand to him. He hadn't even asked or forced an oath out of Draco. He had given it to him. For free.

The idea of giving up something that held so much power over someone for free was unheard of to Draco.

Then, he saw Harry hobbling down the corridor. The gryffindor's eyes focused on a point in the distance much in the same way Hermione's had been. Draco stood, not bothering to mask his footsteps as he followed behind him.

He made sure to keep at least five feet between them. Two feet short of the appropriate following distance, but Draco didn't need it. Harry hadn't moved his eyes once, not even to flicker them at the walls in annoyance like he used to do when he was younger.

They both had changed. All the students had changed. Hell, Draco thought in annoyance, everyone in the Wizarding World had changed. Harry had received the brunt of that change, though. Draco doubted even Granger could name all the differences that he could. When Draco had been studying Harry, Granger had studied books and afterwards, Ron.

What would Granger study now?

Draco shook his head. Granger could find plenty of things to study. She held first place in the school rankings, she had her pick of careers. Well, she kept first place until there were no rankings. But, Draco didn't miss them.

His father had often taken time out of his day to chastise Draco when he received his scores. Comparing him to the mudblood. No, Draco couldn't miss those moments. Lucius wasn't a terrible father by any means. He  just couldn't provide natural affection.  The expectations riding on top of both their backs had severed any chance they had of a father/son relationship .

Draco's mother,  on the other hand , had dropped her expectations without any hesitation. To this day, Draco had no clue how she had done it. He knew that his father would have been angry at her. Draco liked to imagine her outsmarting him. Bringing him to his knees with her words much like the howlers she sent Draco as a child. 

Draco could hear it as they approached. Screeching and hooting that reminded him of those letters and many more. Some, he sent himself both to his mother and the dark lord. The little scrolls in Harry's hands should have been an obvious clue. Yet, Draco was so caught up within his own head that he hadn't seen them.

Halfway up the steps Draco heard Harry pause. He took a moment to examine the other boy's tense back before he leapt back a few steps, out of sight. All Draco could hear past the pulsing blood in his veins was Harry's heavy breathing. Draco swallowed.

When he began to consider approaching him, he heard Harry run. He counted to five before following. His thoughts were like the stairs, twisting and circling almost with no real beginning or end. Why was Harry running?

When Harry had first stopped, Draco thought the boy might have heard him. He should have known better though considering how close he had followed him the way to the owlery. The boy had never run away from trouble. Gryffindors didn't do that. Draco couldn't even use Neville as evidence against that fact anymore. It was a fact now.

_ "Harry's a martyr. Savior complex and all." _

Draco rolled his eyes at the Weasley’s voice in his head.  Really , Harry wasn't the one  being affected here, Draco was. But, it made sense now. Savior complex.

The moment Draco's eyes leveled with the owlery room floor he understood. Harry had run toward the danger.

A small patch of blood on the floor greeted him, the only remaining piece of the savior. Draco faltered on the steps.

Granger was going to kill him.


	2. Wrackspurts

Harry’s head pulsed. It was a living beast inside him, squirming and moving according to its own rules. The magic he felt earlier still there. Relentless.

It was dark. He was swimming in it. Full of it like he had been before Voldemort's death. And,  just like that Harry was at war again.

He couldn’t open his eyes. The lids were heavy and unresponsive. His mouth dry, lips cracking. Every part of his body ached. He could hear though. The sound of dripping water. The sound of rustling. But, then the sound of shuffling like an impatient person who couldn’t keep still.

Harry pulled himself upright sliding away from the sound until his back hit a wall. His hand reached for a wand that wasn't there. The pieces hidden in the folds of his robe.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you should take me back immediately. You don't want a fight.”

“He doesn’t even have a wand.” A male voice whispered to his right. Then, there was more shuffling and, “He looks like a kid.”

“We don't want a fight, my dear boy.”

Harry looked up then. The phrase so familiar it made him weak, turned his legs to jelly.

“Dumbledore?” Harry hadn’t wanted his voice to break, but he couldn’t help it. The pain still circled in his head and dripped in a red he knew was scarlet down his shoulder. It ate at his insides where hunger reigned supreme. Despite that, the loudest pain of all was the one he couldn’t see.

“You…You’re dead.” It dawned on Harry, then. “I’m dead too. I take it.”

“Oh no, my boy. Of course not.”

Harry relaxed against the wall, trying to open his eyes again. There wasn’t much light, but even that was too much. He closed them again and let the back of his head hit the wall.

“If I’m not dead, then I must be dreaming. I was delivering the letters you told me to. An owl…” Harry lifted his right hand and touched his shoulder, it came away sticky with blood. “An owl cut me when I was there. If this is a dream, then why does it hurt so much?”

“It is not a dream.” Dumbledore said. “My boy, can you tell me your name?”

Harry forced his eyes open then. “What, you don't…?”

He stopped; he had to stop. He couldn’t bring himself to continue. Dumbledore stood in front of him, at least ten feet away. Beside him was Sirius, his hair a half tamed mess of brown curls. “Sirius?”

“You know me?”

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the man. The only father figure he had, a man who died because of Harry’s own incompetence, was standing before him alive. Alive? “How are you here, Siri?” The old nickname rolled off his tongue. It was like Sirius hadn't been dead for three years.

“What the hell is going on? How does he know you two?”

Harry turned and blinked. “Dad?” It was so quiet none of them could hear. He cleared his throat and spoke up, “You? You too. Who else?”

Even as he said the words Harry was already scanning the room. Two people he didn’t recognize were beside his father and then…his mother. Harry had seen those eyes too many times in the mirror to not recognize them, even now on a different face.

“My boy, your name. What is it?” Dumbledore was trying to reclaim control, but Harry wasn’t the child he used to be.

“Where am I? You  clearly don’t know me, but I know you. I know you and almost everyone else in this room. So I’m not dead. Even then, you had remembered.” 

Dumbledore sighed and raised his hand, wand clutched between his fingers. Harry jumped into a crouch, the others giving him concerned looks. But, Dumbledore only waved his wand at the objects in his hand. They elongated and increased in size as he tossed them.

An old couch landed on one side and by Harry, a small, but comfy looking chair. He didn’t sit down until they did, even then easing himself down into the chair as if it would eat him.

“You are not in the world you remember. I am not the Dumbledore you remember and my friends here, are not the people you remember them as.” He said waving his hand. “You see, my boy. There are many versions of this world. Many versions of you and of me in other places. Our world is dying. More  accurately someone is killing it.”

James snorted and rolled his eyes at this, but Dumbledore didn’t stop.

“Trelawney, a seer in my world, created a prophecy eight years ago when I hired her. She predicted this.  All of it. That a great evil would come to our world that we wouldn’t be able to defeat. That we would need the help of a hero from a neighboring world.

At the time, I looked into it.  However , in the past two months our situation became more and more dire. Until I could not avoid what I must do any longer.”

“So, let me get this right. You used dark magic to force me into your world and to fight your big bad evil?”

Sirius and James looked up at him, but Sirius was the one to speak. “Not dark magic. Don’t insult us.”

“Don’t be stupid Sirius. The magic brought him here  unwillingly . Of course, it’s dark,” Lily said, rolling her eyes.

“What? You knew?” James asked.

“Of course I knew. I’m not stupid enough to forget such a simple concept.”

“You knew and thought it was okay? We’re supposed to be different from them Lily! They’re corrupt and willing to do anything to get what they want. By using this spell-!”

“By using this spell we will save the lives of as many of our friends and comrades as we can.” Lily spoke with the quiet certainty of someone who knew they would  be heard .

Dumbledore only patted at his robes while Sirius stared at the ceiling. This was normal then. Harry did remember that his parents had hated each other in the beginning, but weren’t they married by now?

Were they even married in this version of his world?

“Fine,” James huffed. “I  just hope this magic doesn’t make us forget what we’re fighting for in the first place.”

“You know what, enough of this.” Harry pulls himself up in the chair and turns his eyes to Dumbledore. “Send me back.”

“I’m afraid it’s a one way spell.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. If you’re even half of the Dumbledore I knew, then you would have a plan.  Just in case that spell brought someone even worse than who you're dealing with now.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “I’m afraid you’re wrong. It’s like that old muggle saying, ‘stuck between a rock and a hard place’. Whether we die to the rock or the hard place. It does not matter. We would be dead either way. You were a last resort, my boy.”

Harry remembered why he never did this. Never bothered anyway. Dumbledore wasn’t a man to lose control. Even if he had a way for Harry to return home he wouldn’t give it up. Not until Harry killed their Voldemort.

Bastard.

Harry wasn't Ron. He couldn't work the chess board in the same way he had.

“So if I help you, you'll help me?”

Dumbledore smiled. An actual smile,  barely visible beneath his beard. “Of course, my boy.” He hummed to himself for a moment then continued. “Now, if that is settled. What is your name?”

Harry looked at his father then. Or, at least, his other father. “Harry Potter.” He said never once taking his eyes off the man.

Hermione looked around the room again. “Are you sure he didn’t somehow slip past you?”  Even ignoring the blood, the amount of feathers and residual magic on the ground was incriminating .

“I spent eight years following Potter, Granger.” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. “I would know even if he was wearing that dumb invisibility cloak he adores so much.”

“You know?” Hermione asked, turning around.

Draco rolled his eyes. A habit that made her want to punch him. Again. “Of course, I knew. Heads don’t  just appear out of thin air.”

She only shook her head, lost. “Heads, thin air. Malfoy, what in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

“Oh don’t pretend that you don’t know. The moment he returned from Hogsmeade, I’m sure Harry went to brag to all you Gryffindorks.”

Hermione chuckled at the memory. “Oh, so you did see his head. Did it give you nightmares Malfoy? I promise I won’t tell a soul. After all, we were only children.”

“I didn’t have nightmares,  _ Granger _ . I had more important things to  be scared about then.” Draco sneered, turning back to his wand. He cast another charm, one that checks for dark magic. When it signaled that yes, there was dark magic in the room, Draco only ran a hand through his hair.

“Malf-” Hermione cut herself off, took a deep breath, and started again. “Draco, I didn’t mean to-”

“I don’t need an apology, Granger. We’re to find Potter, not cry over how fucked  all of us were as children.” Draco said stepping farther back, closer to the staircase. “Potter’s gotten himself into another mess. It was  clearly magic from the Dark Arts that took him.”

Hermione sighed. “Well, he doesn’t waste any time at least.”

“Could’ve at least given us a night’s rest before starting the next adventure.”

She only laughed and cast two more spells before leaving.

“I’m going to the library, Malfoy.” Hermione had taken ten steps down the staircase before realizing Draco wasn’t moving. “Well?” She called back.

Hermione only started walking down again when she heard Draco’s footsteps behind her.

Draco had been reading for what felt like days, but he knew it was only hours. Hermione still had her head buried in her book so deep that Draco wondered for a moment if she was trying to fall in. He closed his own book hard, leaning back.

Hermione looked up at the  _ thump, _ but only shook her head.

“There’s nothing here, Hermione.”

“You don’t know that.”

Draco snorted. “Between the both of us we’ve read the entire library.” Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco beat her to it. “Even the restricted section. If there was a spell in here like that one, we would already know about it.”

Hermione finally closed her own book and leaned back too. She rubbed at her eyes, the bags beneath them large enough to be bottomless. “That rune used in the spell. I’ve seen it before.”

“You have?”

“I remember it from somewhere. I  just... ” she rubbed her temples. “I can’t remember where. I don’t think it  was used as part of the spell though.”

“Do you think it  was used as a signature then?”

Hermione smirked, “A spell that complicated. Anyone would  be tempted to sign their name to it.”

“So we find the rune,”

“We know who did the spell. Of course, this is all under the assumption that the person who did this is narcissistic enough.”

“Don’t you know, Granger?” Draco said standing from his chair. “The greatest wizards always are.”

He reached out to open the door to the library, stepping back when it began to move on its own. Hermione reached for her wand, but it was only Luna. She stopped the moment she saw them, a small smile falling into place.

“I see the wrackspurts are starting to leave. Though a few of them remain.” She said reaching a hand out to swat at the air by Draco, who leaned back.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Luna, but we’re a bit busy at the moment.” Hermione said.

“My mum always said things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. Of course, I don’t think either of you are willing to wait.”

Hermione stopped short and Draco took a step closer. “Do you know something Luna?”

“The greatest wizards are all narcissists. But, not all narcissists are the greatest wizards.”

Hermione considered the words, but Draco sputtered. “Are you insulting me?”

Luna chuckled, “No, I heard you guys before I walked in. Had to tease you a bit Draco. It’s only fair after all those years.” She looked at him, eyes clear and focused, so unlike the Luna that Draco remembered. “But, rather than search for what you’re missing. I would first look at what you desire.”

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Parents

“Are you even sure it’s there, Granger?” Draco asks as he pulls himself up another staircase.

“Well, no.” Hermione stops to look at him. “But, do you have a better idea?”

Draco sighs and shakes his head. Hermione doesn’t bother to hide her smirk as she continues up the staircase. “What happened to your stamina, Malfoy?”

“Oh Granger, I don’t know. Lost about fifteen pounds. Ran from the battle of my life. Then ran back to said battle.” Draco smirks, but Hermione’s back tightens because she can’t see. Draco frowns for a moment before, “The main problem was Harry quitting quidditch. It stopped being fun the moment I couldn’t see his ass as he passed me.”

“What?”

It’s almost comical the way her mouth is hanging open when she turns to look at him. Draco’s more baffled than anything. He hadn’t meant to take the joke so far. It had just been so similar to earlier before they fought. “I…I’m joking, Granger. Clearly.”

“Yea, of course. Obviously.” She says as she turns back around, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe him.

They both are thankful when they see the door to Dumbledore’s …no, the headmaster’s office. It’s empty when they go inside. The phoenix gone and the portraits empty. “Where are they?” Draco asked.

“Probably at the other end, in another portrait.” She’s already walking across the room to a specific portrait. It sits just to the right of the desk, not quite behind the chair. Inside is a cluttered desk and behind it, a sleeping Dumbledore. 

“Professor Dumbledore.”

He doesn’t move.

“Professor Dumbledore.” 

Draco steps around Hermione to glare at the portrait. “Do you plan to pretend to sleep all day? Professor. I figured you would awaken for one of your precious Gryffindors.” 

The portrait of Dumbledore blinks one eye open and turns to examine the two of them. “Quite the odd pairing you two make. I’m surprised you aren’t with Harry.” He directs the last part at Hermione, almost admonishing her.

“Well, that’s just it, Professor Dumbledore. Harry’s missing.”

“Missing?”

“He disappeared in the Owlery earlier. Draco and I think this rune has something to do with the spell used. It was carved into the ground. Do you recognize it?” Hermione asks, holding the paper close to the portrait.

Dumbledore picks up his spectacles from the desk, puts them on and leans forward. He’s leaning so close, Draco would think he was planning on jumping out if it wasn’t for the impossibility. 

“Hmm,” he said leaning back in thought. “I have not seen it before. Dumbledore-” he rolls his eyes. “Apologies,  _ I _ kept many things from my portrait while alive. This was probably one of them.”

“How convenient.” Draco sneered.

“Well, there are some choices we make in life, Draco, that we regret long into our future. I’m sure you know this just as well.” 

Draco stepped back and folded his arms, but Hermione spoke before he could.

“I was afraid of that, Professor. You wouldn’t happen to know where he put the mirror. Would you?”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “The mirror? It does not due to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

“I want to use it to find the owner of the rune. I’ve seen it before.”

Light sparked in his eyes, “You have seen it before? The mirror can show prior knowledge, but you must desire it with every fragment of your being. Do you think that is possible for you, Hermione?”

For the first time since Harry went missing, she looked worried. “I’m not sure, Professor. But, I have to try.”

“Very well then. It’s in my chambers,” Dumbledore points to his right. “The password is Lemon Drop.”

“But, that’s an empty wall.”

“Yes, well, things are never as they seem. Are they, Hermione?”

“No, they never are.” Hermione says as she moves to the wall. The whole room is circular, but here it straightens out a bit. “Lemon Drop.”

The stone peels back like wallpaper and where Hermione’s hand hovers in the air forms a handle. She twists it and pulls the door open.

  
  
  


If the office was a mess of old, magical trinkets, then the room they now stood in was a junkyard. Hermione doesn’t let her eyes stay on any one object for two long though. She needs to find the mirror, just the mirror. Even as she thinks, her eyes are busy scanning. There!

The mirror sits in a corner, a blanket draped over the top, but Hermione can see a piece of the glass peeking from beneath the sheet. “Malfoy, you must understand how important this is.” She says turning back to him. His face is as excited as hers. His eyes still hovering on items she wants to examine. “Malfoy.”

He rolls his eyes as he looks at her. “Yes, Granger. I know. Weasley did spread tales of the mirror even to Slytherin common. If you get stuck, I will pull you from the mirror.”

Hermione ignored the comment about Ron and nodded. “Good.” She said. Hermione had more important things to do than correct him. Try to fix his perspective into her own and see Ron as she did. Well, maybe not quite the way she saw Ron.

Hermione took a step to the mirror. Then another one. She pulled the worn blanket off. Then, she was lost in it’s depths.

There inside the mirror, she stood smiling. Her arm was wrapped around the waist of one Ronald Weasley and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. Harry stood beside her, smiling at her like they had before the war. His eyes are bright, his forehead clear of any scars and he beckons to her. A hand reaching out for her own. 

She wants to pull her eyes away. It’s too good to be true and she knows it. But even as she moves, a new addition is added to the mirror. In her arms, a baby. Red hair peeking from the blanket wrapped around her. 

She knows it is a girl. Naturally. Somehow. Just as she knows when she brings her to her face she whispers Rose. She reaches out her hand and-

Her arm is yanked and it's gone. Her dreams vanished before her eyes yet again. Her gaze circles the room, yet it can’t stay. Trinkets upon trinkets, yet she can’t focus. Her eyes searching. Searching for the mirror “Hermione!”

She looks up. “I’m fine.”

Draco snorts and steps back. “Of course you are. Did you see it?”

Hermione only shakes her head. She looks back towards the mirror, but the blankets are back in place. What she wants, it’s impossible now. Except for Harry. She can still save him. “Let’s go back to researching. Maybe you can ask your pureblood friends about the rune?”

“Because they’re death eaters?”

“Malfoy.” She doesn’t bother to elaborate because her tone says it all. Draco doesn’t reply as they exit Dumbledore’s chambers and re-enter his office. Hermione takes a seat behind the desk ignoring the curious eyes above her.

She is cold. Her arms tight around her waist, but they provide no warmth. She rubs them to create friction and it eases a bit. She’s nearly asleep when Draco startles her. “Hermione.”

He’s holding a book in his hands, a book where instead of an author’s name sits a rune. “That’s it! Draco, you’re a genius! I didn’t even consider Dumbledore’s library.”

“Well, it was just sitting there.” He says taking a seat across from her. “The language in the book is pretty old, but it looks like Dumbledore was translating it before he died.” 

Hermione pulls out the paper Draco is referring to. It sits in the back of the book, covered in Dumbledore’s script. She cleared her throat and began to read it aloud.

_ “The spell will summon a hero from another world. This, of course, doesn’t mean the hero will save you. The spell only summons a hero, not necessarily the one you need. As fate is a single thread I have never used the spell. All of this is theoretical. However, I have checked the runes and language multiple times. Even asking colleagues in the same field for review (most refused as this isn’t a profitable spell). The ones who did reply, however, said it would work. Therefore, I have the utmost faith in it even if I have yet to use it. Let’s hope I never shall.  _

“Why would he translate this?”

Draco shrugged, but behind her a throat cleared. “That was the book he hid from me. Quite the sneak he was. I imagine he was looking for a way to alleviate Harry Potter of murder. That is what I would do. However, the owner of that diary said it correctly. Fate’s line should not be tangled. I imagine once he realized this he abandoned the prospect.”

“The spell is translated though.” Hermione said. “We can work back from this Draco.”

“I hate to be the realist, but we don’t know if that’s the exact spell used to take Harry.”

“Really? The same rune as the author of this book and,” Hermione widened her eyes as she pointed to a paragraph. “Oh, would you look at that Malfoy. There’s the symbol in the notes.  _ Carve this rune into the floor just under the word ‘beneath’. _ ”

Draco glared at her as he grabbed it from her. 

“Careful! You almost gave me a papercut,” she said looking at her finger.

“Don’t be such a princess. I don’t want to waste time reversing a spell that we aren’t even sure took him.”

“I know.” Hermione said as she set her hands on top of the desk. “I know, but we don’t have many more choices. Harry became a hero when he defeated Voldemort. It can’t be a coincidence. This spell summons heroes.” 

“If I may put in my two pence, Hermione. I would suggest finding a spell to show you where he is before you try to bring him back. Whoever summoned him, may do it again when he disappears.”

“Merlin!”

  
  
  


James Potter was frozen. His eyes hadn’t moved from Harry’s own, but his hands had tightened into fists, one nearly crushing his wand. “Harry Potter?”

His voice was just a whisper nearly stealing Harry’s own. He nodded pointing to the both of them, his parents. “I do exist in this world.” Harry starts as he turns to Lily who is just as surprised. “Don’t I?”

Lily blinks back tears, wiping her eyes. “You did, love. You did.”

Harry realizes then. In his world he grew up without parents to love him. In this world his parents grew up without a child to love.

What bitter irony.

He swallowed, forcing the frog deeper down. “This Harry Potter died then?” He had to distance himself. No more ‘I’ or ‘we’, just ‘this’ and ‘they’. 

“He was murdered in 1990.” Sirius explains, leaning a bit closer. His hair is shorter than Harry remembers, no hair above his lip or around his jaw. He looks young. 

Harry does the math in his head. “At ten?” When Harry was ten he was still living in the cupboard making food for the Dursleys, completing a mile high list of chores. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. Even if this Harry Potter died, he had lived. Actually lived. Not buried by something he couldn’t control. 

“At ten.” His father confirms, nodding his head as he blinked back tears. His hands unfurl themselves and he’s reaching. Harry nearly flinches back on reflex. He’s still not used to hugs even years after the Weasleys and James Potter is no Molly. But, his hugs.

His hugs could cure everything, is all Harry can think as arms wrap around him. Just as he relaxes another arm is added, then another. He’s wrapped in a hug with people he doesn’t know, but Harry can’t seem to care. These people…they love him. He can feel it.

The emotion in the air isn’t haunting and caging like Voldemort’s or Vernon’s. It’s not controlling like Dumbledore’s. It’s something so similar to Hermione and Ron that Harry relaxes. He slides his arms around the first person he can reach, his father. 

No.

Not  _ his _ father. 

Harry Potter’s father. 

He pulls back, swiping his arm against his eyes before he’s entirely visible from beneath the bundle of arms and torsos. “I can’t.” He whispers. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Harry,” his mother whispers.

“No. I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” This time it's James. He’s pulled back, leaning as much as he can while crouching on the ground. 

Harry takes a deep breath, looking at Dumbledore. “My parents,” he chokes. “My parents died in my world. When I was a baby.”

‘And how cruel fate is’ he can almost hear them think as he waits. 

“That’s why,” James says, breathless. 

“That’s why,” Harry confirms. He still doesn’t turn away from Dumbledore who is remarkably composed considering. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he had known. Dumbledore always knew. Somehow. Secrets don’t get very far past a man who can read your thoughts just by looking in your eyes. 

Dumbledore takes a breath before speaking. “I understand, Harry, that this must be very confusing for you. What I did; I knew it would have consequences. Yet, there is some light here. James and Lily lost you years ago and you lost them long before. I think this is a wonderful chance for you to get to know them.”

“They aren’t  _ my _ parents,” Harry grits out.

He almost regrets it when he feels James pull away, hears him plop back into his seat with more force than required. He does regret it when Lily grabs his arm. Her nails don’t dig into his skin, but he can feel them, her grip is so tight. 

“You may not be  _ my _ son.” She says, reaching up to turn his face to hers. The pressure so gentle Harry doesn’t bother to resist. His own eyes look back at him, softer and lighter, beading with tears unshed. “But, if your mother is anything like me then she would want us to steal this opportunity. I,” she takes another breath. “She would want you to know.”

And though he knows he shouldn't, Harry asks, “Know what?”

“Know the love of a mother.”

“Just to lose it again? What’s the point of that?” Now, he does resist. Pulling his head out of her hand and pushing his body into the arm of the chair away from her. Yet no matter how much he pushes, it isn’t far enough. All he can think in his head is how needless the pain would be. To love on purpose knowing you would lose it.

“It is better to have loved and lost than never to have love at all,” she says.

Maybe there is something to nature after all because Harry knows that quote. Loves it and hates it all the same. “Alfred Lord Tennyson,” he says.

She smiles at him, her hands on the arm he isn’t huddled into. Nails digging into the fabric with what Harry hopes is eagerness and not anger. “She would be proud.”

Who knew four words could rip such holes in people. 

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to. I look at you and I see my son all grown up. As a mother I couldn’t be prouder than in this moment. I lost my son. It nearly killed me. You lost us both. Honestly, I’m not sure how you did it.” 

Harry doesn’t mean to say it, but it comes out anyway. “I didn’t have much time, no. The belief in mourning someone I never really met.”

Despite how hard the words themselves are, how thoughtless, his voice is soft and she only smiles. “Even then.”

“Harry,” James says. He almost doesn’t want to look at him, but he can’t help it. 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t there. Let us make up for it. As much as we can now. Can we?” 

Even though he needs to say no. Needs to never get attached to someone he knows he’ll lose because he still hasn’t gotten over Ron. “Yes,” is the only thing he can say. Harry doesn’t know if his mouth was capable of forming any other word in that moment.

Sirius pulls him from his armchair, dragging him into the couch next to James. “Welcome to the family, kid.” He says ruffling his hair. Lily reaches across James to grab his hand, pulling it toward her. 

‘Thank you’ she mouths to him. Harry doesn’t know what to say so he turns away. His gaze falls on the people next to Dumbledore. Even as he tries to look at them, Sirius is batting his hair into his eyes. Harry tries to pull his head away from Sirius’s hand, but the man is a dog with a bone. Literally. 

“Sirius,” he huffs. 

It feels so familiar. Even if everyone around him should be dead. 

“Alice,” Lily starts. “Can you believe it?”

“I’m so happy for you, Lily.” The woman smiles. Her hair is longer, straighter than Harry remembers in the photograph. He hadn’t been able to recognize her. The man beside her must be-

“Frank,” the man says smiling at him.

“You know Legilimency?”

“Most of the order knows some amount of it. At least, the older members.”

Harry couldn’t help, but think how odd that was. As far as he knew his parents and the Longbottoms were still young. Late thirties, early forties. 

“That must come in handy,” he says with a grin.

“More than you know.”

James knocks his shoulder as he asks, “You don’t know any?”

Harry nearly groans. “I tried to learn Occlumency, but it’s horrible. Snape just used the lessons to torture me the whole time.”

James stops grinning, “What?”

“Oh, no. I was exaggerating. Not literally torture me,” he says rubbing a hand in his hair. “I’ve been tortured before and trust me it wasn’t that.”

“You’ve been what?” Lily asks. She looks angry and it’s only then that Harry remembers just how dangerous his parents are. Even before the first wizarding war the two of them experimented with magic. Lily because she liked to and James because, well. Because he was a bully.

Harry wonders exactly how much pain they would have inflicted on all the horrible people in his life if they had been alive, but he knows it’s futile. “Well, yea, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as…” He stops speaking as their faces only get darker and bites his lip. “Other things.”

“Harry James Potter, we will discuss this with you later. Am I understood?” Lily asks.

Harry doesn’t even think to reply with the obvious answer. That he’s an adult in the wizarding world and shouldn’t have to answer to her. He just says, “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s this moment that makes Harry realize exactly how hard it was for Draco when his mother called to him across the battlefield. He heard whispers about it. The coward that ran before it started, but he knew. Draco had tossed him a wand when he returned. Draco was no coward. Harry knew that now more than ever. 

“Well,” Lily says standing up. “I would like to make my son cookies unless you have something else to say to him, Dumbledore.”

“No, it is probably for the best that Harry settles in first. We will discuss the important matters later.” He says searching the pockets of his robe.

“Actually, I’ve already beaten Voldemort. So, if I tell you where the horcruxes are we can get a head start.”

Dumbledore pauses in his searching to look at him. “Harry, you keep speaking of this Voldemort. Who exactly are you talking about?”

“You-know-who?” Harry asks. “Voldemort? He who shall be named? Tom Riddle!” Harry shouts at the end, but it doesn’t change Dumbledore’s small shake of his head.

“I have never heard of a Tom Riddle.”

Tom Riddle doesn’t exist in this world.

If he doesn’t exist then who-

“Harry, it seems we’ve had a bit of a mix-up. Fenrir Greyback is the man we’re fighting. He already controls most of the wizarding world.”

“Greyback?!” 

Harry remembers the man, taller than Remus but all animal. The eyes that only saw him as meat. The time he had captured them. The jokes he made towards Hermione. 

“Greyback helped Voldemort in my world. He fought in the Second Wizarding War. Nearly killed me and my friends more than once. Greyback isn’t the type to be able to take over though. He was turning people into werewolves, yes, but most died because they were human.”

“That’s the difference then,” Lily says. 

“What?”

“Twenty years ago, Greyback started turning wizards too. Mostly children. Because they’re so young they don’t know. The pull to the werewolf who turned them is so strong they follow him back.”

“But, Remus could resist it.” Harry says looking at James for support, but his father only closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“It gets easier the older you get, but the wolf inside wants its pack. At four, Remus couldn’t have resisted. His father stopped him from following. Came inside the room just in time to see his son turn. Remus didn’t know any better at the time, but his father locked him inside.”

“I didn’t know.”

Lily smiles at him softly, “I imagine he didn’t want you to know. Remus hides stuff from us all the time. Don’t take it personally, Harry.”

“Okay.” He says, but it's hard. They don’t know what Remus meant to Harry. That he taught him how to cast a patronus. That even though Harry told him his deepest fears, Remus hadn’t said a word in return. Never could now.

Lily pulls him up from the couch and into her arms. A quick hug before she releases and settles on his hand. James and Sirius are quick to follow as she says goodbye to the other three and Harry is stuck in the middle. In front of him the wild red hair of his mother and behind the solid presence of his father and godfather. 

_ If this is a dream, please don’t wake me up. _


	4. Cry Baby

There are some things that cannot be erased from the skin Draco thinks as he watches Hermione. Magic can only go so far and the swirling lines on her arms are proof of that. Proof of the torture she received at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. As weird as it sounds, Draco’s almost envious. She has proof of her suffering. He only has a small handful of scars across his chest from the sectumsempra curse. 

He should be thankful, but Draco hates the uncertainty he feels every time he looks. What he expects is never what he sees. The past and future never mix the way they should. He expects to see the blood and scars he did as a child, but they’re never there. No proof the incident had ever happened. There are some things that cannot be erased from the skin. But, more often than not, in Draco’s case, they can be.

The scars he received as a child falling off his broom, gone. The bruises from Lucuis grabbing him too tightly as a child, gone. The marks across his back after he failed to pass Granger in fourth year, gone. All of it, gone. Scars are unbecoming on a pureblood. Too muggle for a wizard to have.

Yet, the way Hermione pushes back her sleeves with no fear what others might think makes Draco envious. She holds herself like a pureblood even with the muggle blood in her veins. Lucuis would have loved to have her as a daughter. Perfect grades, perfect posture. Not so perfect scars.

“Hermione, why didn’t you use dittany on them?” He asks, looking at her arms.

Stupid Malfoy. Stupid, stupid Malfoy. She wouldn’t have had access to it in time. Obviously.

Hermione doesn’t look angry though. The question is stupid. Every ounce of it. They both know it, but Hermione only looks up from her book at him, curious. Her eyebrows are drawn together as she frowns. “Well, we were busy at the time.”

Draco runs a hand through his hair, “I know. I mean, obviously. It’s just, don’t they bother you?”

“Why would they? They’re part of me.” Hermione runs her hand along her arm, shivering. “The things Lestrange did. If I couldn’t see the scars, I wouldn’t believe it. My own memories. Even if I did have access to Dittany back then, I wouldn’t have used it. I need the proof.”

Draco understands that. Knows because he questions his own memories more than he can say. Did his father hit him that hard? Did the fire burn that much? He couldn’t tell someone for sure. 

He isn’t sure what to say so he only nods and continues brewing his side of the potion. Hermione is working on the spell to get them there. It’s Draco’s job to stock them up with health potions and brew some Polyjuice potion just in case.

The room is silent the rest of the night.

  
  


Lily pulls him into a dark room. It’s an open plan room, living room and kitchen combined. The latter being on the right side of the room divided only by a tabletop with some stools in front. The light comes on as they enter and Harry wonders what happened to the Hogwarts kitchen. Just as he’s about to ask though Lily turns to the men behind them.

“You and you,” she says pointing. “Make yourselves busy elsewhere. I want to talk to my son.”

James rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “He’s my son as much as yours.” He looks like he wants to say more, but Sirius grabs his arm with a pointed look at Harry and he quiets. 

“James, please. You can come back when the cookies are done. I’ll give you half,” she says, smiling.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll be back in time to eat, prongslet.”

James tousles his hair as they leave, shutting the door a bit harder than necessary.

“Horrible habit to have.” Lily says as she starts removing pots and ingredients from the cabinets. She doesn’t use her wand until all the ingredients are in a bowl. She swirls her wand around and the ingredients start to swirl together and become one.

“That would have been useful,” Harry murmurs. He rubbed his hand raw multiple times making cakes and brownies for Petunia’s parties. She never let him use the electric mixer, told him he needed to learn how to do things the ‘natural way’. How an electric mixer wasn’t ‘natural’, which in Petunia’s dictionary meant human, was beyond him. 

Lily turns to him. Her eyes are alight and Harry can almost see the thoughts in her head they’re so clear on her face. “You like to cook?” It’s clear from her expression she loves it and Harry doesn’t want to ruin this. To tell her he hates to cook, has since he burned his hand on the frying pan at the age of eight and Vernon called him a cry baby.

“Sometimes,” he says. He tries to smile, but he’s sure it doesn’t look right. Crooked and as unnatural as the electric mixer on the counter, mechanical. 

Lily frowns a bit, but her eyes are soft. “You don’t have to lie to me Harry. You don’t have to like to cook. I kicked out the boys so we could talk. Honestly.”

“I just,” Harry starts, but he can’t finish. He takes a seat on one of the red stools under the counter and lets his head fall into his hands. “I’m not used to this.” He mumbles into his hands.

He hears a huff and a clatter of pan on metal then, “Don’t mumble Harry Potter. It’s not polite.”

Harry lets his hands fall. “I’m not used to this. Having someone who can tell.”

“Tell when you’re lying? Harry, I’m your mother.” She pauses for a moment and sets a timer with her wand. “Well, somewhat your mother. You lie exactly the same way my Harry did though. Putting on a smile and hoping people don’t stop to look closely. Of course, being a legilimen helps exponentially.”

He rolls his eyes, “Of course, I end up with the ’somewhat mother’ who can read my thoughts.”

Lily laughs, “I don’t read your thoughts Harry. I’m not that good. Severus tries to teach me, but it’s useless. Even James was better at it then me. I skim the surface. It helps detect lies. Not full proof though. Someone good at Occlumency would be able to hide it. Bellatrix loves to trick me like that. Awful bitch.”

There are multiple things wrong with what she’s just said. Like the fact she refers to Snape as Severus or her familiarity with Bellatrix Lestrange. Even her foul language seems a little out of character. Harry, as per usual, asks about the thing bothering him the most. “James is a legilimens?” It’s odd he thinks that his father can do it when he can’t. The way Sirius had described James, Harry would have never suspected.

“Much better at it than me. He can read some thoughts, not all. He’s not very good at navigating someone’s memories so he tries to stay on the surface as much as possible.”

Harry notes that down for later in case he ever needs to hide anything from the man. “And Bellatrix Lestrange? You said she likes to trick you. In passing?”

Lily narrows her eyes at him and he shivers. “I’m not a memory vault, Harry. If we do this there will be give and take.”

“21 questions?”

“Exactly,” she says with a grin. The timer ticks away behind her. 

It’s not a bad idea. Harry could learn a lot about this world in 21 questions, but she could learn a lot about him in 21 questions. Of course, without Veritaserum Harry could just lie. That is, if he avoided her eyes. 

“Alright, two question skip rule?”

“Agreed. Now, Harry,” she says reaching up into a top shelf. “I don’t know if you’ve played wizards 21 questions, but we don’t allow for cheating.” She winks at him as she sets a vial on the counter. 

“Veritaserum is banned by the ministry.”

“A lot of things are banned by the ministry,” is the only answer she gives him. She uncaps the vial and puts a drop on her finger. “One drop alright. Only one Harry.” She pops her finger into her mouth.

“I could just ask you any question I want now and not even take it.”

“But you won’t,” she says with another grin. Lily grins a lot, Harry has noticed. For big things and minor things. She doesn’t let any amount of joy slip past her without being expressed on her face. 

He won’t, Harry agrees silently as he puts a drop on his own finger and takes it. “Should I go first?”

“If you want.”

Harry glances at the timer again. There isn’t much time left on the cookies, certainly not enough for 21 questions. “How did I die in this world?”

She’s surprised. Harry can tell that much by the way her eyes widen and her mouth pops open before closing tightly. He wonders if he asked a question too brutal off the bat, but she only sighs. “I should have figured you would ask that. We aren’t sure. There was a puddle of blood in the nursery and you weren’t anywhere in sight. I suspect it was Fenrir because James had recently arrested him.”

“Oh.” 

Harry could slap himself. Her eyes are wet and the timer behind her continues to tick regardless. 

“If we died in your world, then who raised you?”

And this is what Harry had wanted to avoid. He hoped she would ask about his years at Hogwarts. Maybe his sexuality, not that he knew, but still. A question on the surface, not one so personal. He didn’t want to give up one of his skips though so he prepares himself and answers.

“Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.” The truth serum doesn’t force it out like Harry suspected. It only made him want to say it. Brought the words to his mind and coerced his tongue to speak them. One drop was nowhere near the limited amount of three the ministry used though. “Legally,” Harry adds because he can’t help it. 

Lily doesn’t look surprised at the information. Like she already knew the answer before he said it and just wanted to confirm it. “I thought so,” she says softly. “Did they treat you well?” She asks before he speaks and Harry tightens his lips.

He doesn’t want to answer, but his lips do. His mind pushes the words and his tongue moves inside his mouth even with it closed. He can resist if he wants to. Really resist it. Part of him, doesn’t want to.

“As well as Petunia allowed herself,” he says. “It was my turn to ask a question you know.”

Lily forces a smile, but it doesn’t sit the same. “Sorry, Harry. Got a bit ahead of myself, didn’t I? You go ahead and ask two.”

“After I died, did you go after Fenrir?”

“Your father and Sirius did. They were driven by rage. I couldn’t. I was possessed by something much different.” 

Harry doesn’t need to ask her what, he already knows. “Did they catch him?”

“Of course not. By that point, the man was long gone. Never showed his face in front of your father again. Even now that he’s come out of hiding, he won’t.” She licks her lips before asking, “What’s the worst thing they did to you?”

“I pass,” Harry says immediately. Even subconsciously he doesn’t want to answer that one. He can feel it in the way his magic forces the Veritaserum back. In the way his tongue remains still and his thoughts quiet. “And after, when they came back. How did they handle my death?”

“Not well, Harry. None of us did. I’m sure you can imagine as you lost us, but losing a child Harry. We never fully recovered. Even now, it sits,” she says pointing to her chest. “I can see it in you. Besides us, how many have you lost.”

Harry rubs his face before looking back up, counting. “Ten.”

She reaches over to grab his hand and runs her thumb along the back. “I’m sorry.”

Harry nods. It’s different, he thinks. The contact is both unusual and amazing. He doesn’t need either, but his fingers tighten as he asks, “Is Severus still alive here?” It’s fresh on his mind after counting and Harry can’t help but miss the old bat. 

“He is,” Lily grins. “Alive and well. If you want I’ll take you to him later?”

“No,” Harry says before he can think. “Best not to with everything that happened.”

“How did he die in your world?”

“Bitten by a snake.”

Lily laughs outright and Harry looks up. “Sorry,” she says in between chuckles. “It’s just I can’t wait to tell Severus tonight. Bitten by a snake. A Slytherin. He’s just going to die at the irony of it all.”

Harry tries not to laugh. Really he does. Snape is dead for him. Never coming back in Harry’s own world. But here he is alive and well, able to laugh at his own death. It comes out anyway. Chuckles escaping his lips and tears from his eyes. Before Harry can realize it, he isn’t laughing anymore. He’s sobbing. 

He tries to hide his head in his hands because he hates crying in front of others. Petunia was always disapproving and crying only made Vernon hate him more. He doesn’t want either reaction from his mother. Wouldn’t have risked it if he’d known that he would lose it. Instead of the harsh rebuttal he’s expecting though Lily only squeezes his hand tighter. She pulls it around with her as she travels around the bar towards him, pulling him into a hug. Harry loses it then. Truly loses it. The sobs are like a raging beast in his lungs escaping as he gasps for air. It hurts he realizes as he dry heaves in an effort to stop.

Lily runs her hand across his hair over and over. She leans down to kiss his temple and repeats the cycle. “It’s healthy to cry,” she whispers against him. “Let it all out, Harry. Let it out.” 

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put Hermione and Draco in this chapter (the other versions), but I got distracted by angst.


	5. Trust

By the time Harry Potter is done crying, the cookies are burnt. He can smell it. Lily had waved her wand at some point, probably turning off the alarm so it wouldn't interrupt his sobs. Harry cringed at the thought. 

He had never before exposed himself so much to another person, the thought concerned him. He wasn't supposed to be getting close to them. He would leave them soon. After dealing with Greyback. He couldn't stay. This time it would be him who leaves. 

Harry pulls away from her, grimacing. "I'm sorry about your shirt."

"We're wizards Harry."

"Right."

It's awkward between them as she raises her wand first towards her own clothes then towards his. As if remembering his earlier flinch she stops, "Can I?" He nods and she straightens his own clothing, taking out wrinkles he had never noticed before. "I can get rid of your puffy eyes too. Or at least glamour them. The spell was very helpful for me at Hogwarts, James, your father, wasn't very good at expressing his interest."

Harry wants to laugh at that, but he stops himself. "No, it's okay. I can do it myself." He doesn't think about it. He just applies the glamour. It isn't until her eyes widen that he realizes his own mistake.

"Wandless magic? Glamour wandless magic? Harry James Potter, how much did you use that spell? To get this kind of mastery over it..."

"Well, ya know, school and all." Harry scratches his jaw. 

"Don't lie to me young man."

Harry rolls his eyes, "I'm not lying. I'm still under veritaserum."

"Oh please, that wasn't veritaserum. It's a special blend I made to taste similar."

It wasn't veritaserum?

The smell had been a bit different from the time they made it in Slughorn's class, but he hadn't thought. 

They were human. Open to betrayal at any moment. Open to lying just as Dumbledore had. For the greater good, Harry. Always for the greater good, but never for him. It was never Harry they considered in those moments, but themselves. So wrapped up in what they wanted to achieve it didn't matter how much trust they crushed along the way.

At first Harry's numb. He sits blankly still thinking. Mind turning. Then, just as the door opens, Harry leaps up. 

"You lied to me then?" Harry runs a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. "For what? A couple truthful answers? Were any of your answers real?"

Lily frowns, realization hitting her. "I didn't lie, Harry. Not once in my responses to your questions. Only about the veritaserum. I couldn't- Harry I couldn't give that to my own son."

"Your son?" Harry snapped rolling his eyes. "As if you would know what your son needs."

He steps back, twisting around to see James and Sirius in the doorway. "Harry," James starts.

Harry sneers at him. "What? Come to bully your precious son too?" He knows.

He shouldn't say that. Shouldn't reprimand James for something he didn't do. Yet, he can't think properly. It was all crumbling again. Returning to Hogwarts; to Dumbledore and his lies.

"Don't talk to James that way," Sirius growled moving in front of the other man. But James stopped him. Wouldn't let the man touch Harry. For what? Who was he protecting?

"What happened?"

"Of course," Harry continued. He couldn't stop himself anymore. He had exposed himself to them. Had shown Lily something he never dared to reveal before. How would James hurt him when given the chance? "I'm not your precious son now am I."

He had gone too far. Sirius grabbed his arm and yanked Harry toward him. Yet, Harry had expected it. Prepared for it. Even as Sirius pulled Harry was twisting and then Sirius was gone. Not gone. Across the room. The man slammed into the wall and hit the ground hard.

"Don't touch me." Harry croaked as he pushed past James.

He tried to brush off his own feelings. Release the frog in his throat and restart the fiery temper he was known so well for. But, he couldn't. In those moments of anger he had realized exactly how close he had grown to them.

A pseudo set of parents destiny pushed onto him. She dipped her fingers in red paint each time she touched him.

Screw that.

Risking everything he had earned for a couple moments of minor pleasure. Harry had been right from the very beginning. He wasn't capable of that. 

Trusting someone else to survive.

The rescinding love destiny weaved. Harry wouldn't play the strings anymore.

It's more of a wayward connection than anything. The video flickering constantly as they watch and the audio in snatches. Snatches are all they need to understand what's happening. 

Or, maybe more than snatches: red hair. Lily Potter stands before her son, confused. Her head is tilted as she looks at him, eyes analyzing. Trying to figure him out the way Hermione would a book or Draco a potion. 

"You lied then," It's Harry shouting. Words sometimes mumbled together or garbled beyond recognition in the void between their worlds. "Any of it real?"

"Shit." Draco drops.

Hermione can't help but agree as the door opens. 

Harry's voice comes across before the visual does. "What? Come to bully your precious son too?"

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighs. 

"So," Draco pauses looking for words. "He's in a different world from our own...with his parents? Who are bullying him?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous Draco. I doubt they're bullying him. Harry's just being dramatic as per usual. Although, in this case his dramatism makes sense."

Draco still hadn't caught on to the situation. Of course, he hadn't known Harry as well as Hermione had. He had watched him, followed him, studied him, but he never truly spoke to Harry. He didn't know anything about him besides the rumors that floated around.

He rolled his eyes as he thought about it. Here Harry was cursing his own father and Hermione was accepting it. None of it made sense. Hermione was diligent and straight-forward. She didn't enjoy snide comments.

Harry left the room as they watched turning down a familiar corridor.

"He's in Hogwarts?"

"He must be. See this cranny?" Draco asked, pointing at the small visual. "It's right in front of Hufflepuff commons."

"How would you know?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Come on Hermione. People hated me emotionally, but physically..." He smirks as he looks back at the cranny. "Good times."

"Boys," Hermione says, rolling her eyes. She opens up the journal beside her and almost misses his response.

"Of course." 

She ignores him. Has to because her brain is turning. She can't think about what Draco's jokes might mean for Harry. Didn't have time to consider the repercussions of emotions not yet proven. They had seen where he was and he was clearly unhappy. Even with his parents there and Sirius, Harry ran down the hall more than walked. Trying to escape.

He was looking into each opening as he passed. Looking for enemies, Hermione realized. Harry needed to heal not to be dragged into another godforsaken world. 

"We're bringing him back, right?"

"As if you need to ask. Shut up and help me Malfoy."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't..."

"What. Did. You. Do?" James asked again. He was clearly losing patience and fast. He hadn't been together with Lily in eight years, but he still couldn't look in her eyes as he spoke.

He knew if he did he wouldn't be able to get an answer. Would stop asking rather than force her to speak. James needed to know though. When he and Sirius had left Harry had been fine. Almost happy even.

"I didn't- I just wanted to get to know him better." Lily whispered. "We hazed the first years like that all the time. Pretending a drink contained veritaserum because even the thought would be enough. I didn't...Why would he..?"

Sirius massaged his thigh as he spoke, nearly growling. "Kid knows wandless magic?"

"I suspected earlier, but this confirms it." Lily said.

"He's strong. I was wondering why he wasn't concerned about being wandless among us. But why did he get so angry when you lied about the veritaserum?" 

"I'm not sure. The only thing I ca-"

"Don't talk about it here." James interrupted. "We'll go to my rooms to discuss it. Sirius you should get looked at by Poppy." 

Sirius frowned and stepped forward, forcing himself into James's view.

"You shutting me out Prongs?"

They were always blunt with each other. So blunt they scared others. Even Remus. James couldn't help his surprise though. He hadn't expected Sirius to argue. The situation was too volatile for an argument. "It's my so-"

"No, it's not!" Sirius straightened as he spoke. "That boy is someone summoned here to save us and you two keep coddling him. What he did," Sirius said, pointing at his leg. "That's not normal. Do you think Dumbledore could do that? Because I don't."

"It doesn't matter Sirius. He is still-"

"But it does matter. Don't you see?" Sirius looked manic as he spoke, eyes wide. "We summoned him with dark magic."

Lily looked up, "You aren't suggesting?"

"I am. There is a reason we're not supposed to use dark magic. Most of the order members are out right now, but when they get back --when they see what that thing can do-- what do you think they'll say? 'Welcome Mr. Hero I sure hope you don't kill us all.'"

"Sirius I suggest you go see Poppy before I do something we'll both regret."

"You already have," Sirius said as he left.

James shoved his hand into his hair, pulling. "Fuck."

"The spell is supposed to pull him to us, right?"

"Of course, Malfoy. I'm not stupid."

"Draco. It's Draco."

"Right, sorry Draco." Hermione said as she carved a rune deeper into the floor.

"It's fine just know I'm haunting you if this kills us."

Hermione laughed, "That's not it works Draco. A ghost can't haunt another ghost. We'll be haunting each other."

"Just start the spell Granger."

"Hermione."

Draco sighed, "Start the spell Hermione."

She did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead. Probably. Could be writing beyond the grave though. <#.#<


End file.
